


Of Irish coffee and milk tea

by Felicja_Julieanne



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: 1. Feliks is sad and Sean is sweet, 2. Feliks vs big doggo, 3. Building gingerbread houses, 4. It's fucking sad im sorry, 5. Separation during the cold war, 6. Family au featuring a crying baby, Character Death, Depression, Drabble Collection, M/M, sad Feliks is sad
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-16
Updated: 2019-01-06
Packaged: 2019-09-20 15:11:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 6
Words: 3,998
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17024985
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Felicja_Julieanne/pseuds/Felicja_Julieanne
Summary: An evergrowing collection of drabbles, starring Ireland and Poland





	1. The music of my heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He might be clueless about actual psychology, and how depression works, but Feliks, he knows perfectly.

Feliks is sitting on the windowsill seat again, Seán notices upon walking into the room. And that means it’s one of _those_ days.

The days he’s barely gonna utter a word. When all he will do is stare out of the window, playing with the end of his sleeve. When there’s no makeup on his face, and all he’s wearing is Seán’s hoodie and a pair of old sweatpants. When he probably woke up way too early and won’t sleep til long past sunset. Probably hasn’t eaten and won’t unless he’s forced.

Seán sighs, and sets the coffee he was holding onto a small table next to the wall. He walks up to Feliks, and puts a hand on his back and slightly pushes it; Feliks rightfully scoops himself forward without a word. Seán sits down, and pulls Feliks into his arms, so Feliks settles himself between his legs and nuzzles into Seán’s chest.

“There’s coffee on the table if you want,” Seán says. “Did you take your meds?”

There is no answer - not like Seán expected one. It’s okay, though. The days he used to be discouraged by that are long gone, Seán’s learned a lot.

“I saw a little puppy when I was out picking groceries,” he starts speaking. “A corgi. She was really adorable, and the owner let me pet her-” with that, he begins a story with no actual beginning and no end; he just talks about whatever comes to his head, just so there’s no silence in the room.

He might be clueless about actual psychology, and how depression works, but Feliks, he knows perfectly. He picked up that Feliks hates silence on his bad days, and Seán’s voice seems to do the trick. Sometimes he wishes to be left alone, but more time than that, he’s gonna snuggle against Seán for the silent comfort.

Feliks has actually told him once that he usually does his best to avoid people when he’s feeling bad, cause pretending is exhausting. Seán is extremely glad Feliks gave that up when it comes to him. Cause sure, he’s no conversation partner,  but all Seán needs is just to have him in his arms and make sure he can do all he’s able to have Feliks feel at least a little better.

“Yknow,” he says, brushing his fingers through Feliks’s hair. “I was thinking about the night we first met today. I had no idea how lucky I’d become.” He smiles to himself. He’s not sure if that helps Feliks, but he likes saying it. And if there’s a chance it does make Feliks smile, Seán is going to take it. He’s gonna say it over, and over, and over. “I love you so much, _mo shíorghrá. Is ceol mo chroí thú._ ”

_You’re the music of my heart._


	2. Bentley

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “I want to leave,” Poland says quickly - this thing standing on its back legs is as big as Ireland is, bigger even, which is beyond ridiculous.  
> “Didn’t you wanna see the baby sheep?”  
> “Is there any other way in?”  
> “No.”  
> “Then no.”

Poland loves visiting the countryside. As much as he likes the comfort of living in a city, there’s some part of him that’s always longing for the open fields and the fresh air. So when Ireland suggests visiting some of his friends who own a farm, he’s more than happy to go. 

He and Ireland themselves don’t actually live in a city, but in the woods; still relatively close to a civilisation, but far away enough for them to have some peace and quiet. Still, a farm has a different sort of vibe to it, or to Poland it has, at least. It’s buzzing with life, and work, and it’s a whole another kind of calm than the woods have to offer.

Poland is delighted to find out it’s a sheep farm. He loves all kind of fluffy animals, so that should be a great day. They exchange pleasantries with Ireland’s friends (a middle aged couple with a few kids - polite and very open people), after which Ireland offers to take Poland around the place and show him the animals; apparently he’s familiar enough with the place he knows where everything is.

Poland is the most excited about hearing there’s baby sheep, but before he gets the chance to even babble to Ireland about how cute baby sheep are, something else catches his mind.

“Is… is that a  _ dog _ ?” he points towards the fence gate and the... creature lying next to it. 

“Ah, yeah, that’s Bentley! He’s calm, don’t worry,” Ireland smiles at him, and walks up to the dog. He whistles, and the dog puts its head up excitedly, after which it hops to its feet to greet Ireland. If Poland hasn’t been reluctant to approach it before, he certainly is now. The dog easily reaches Ireland’s waist, and for a second Poland isn’t sure if that is a dog at all, dogs aren’t  _ that  _ big.

“S-Seán,” Poland says weakly, taking a step back. Ireland doesn’t seem bothered in the slightest, he’s too busy rubbing the dog and cooing at it.

“He doesn’t bite,” Ireland answers. He then pats his knees, and the dog puts its two front paws on Ireland’s shoulder, and Poland takes another step back.

“I want to leave,” Poland says quickly - this thing standing on its back legs is as big as Ireland is bigger even, and Poland is shorter than him.

“Oh come on, love, he’s a calm fella,” Ireland laughs. He gently pushes the dog away. “I promise,” he adds.

“No. I want to go back to the house.”

“Didn’t you wanna see the baby sheep?”

“Is there any other way in?”

“No.”

“Then no.” He sees Ireland roll his eyes. He tells the dog to stay - it listens, surprisingly - and walks up to Poland. 

“Why would you be scared of him?”

“Have you seen how big it is?!”

“I thought you like them big?” Poland looks at him with furrowed brows. “Jee, I’m sorry,” he says quickly. “But I mean, it’s fine. He won’t do anything to you. Come on.” Ireland takes Poland’s hand and starts walking in the direction of the gate; Poland stays where he is, though.

“I don’t want to.” 

“Just come with me. You don’t have to touch him if you don’t wanna,” Ireland assures him. He then whistles again, and the dog walks up to him. “See? Bentley’s a sweetie,” he tells Poland as he’s slowly petting the dog. And Poland might actually agree - usually dogs are impossibly energetic, and this one seems like it has some common sense. 

Ireland then takes the hand holding Poland’s, and puts it on the dog’s head. Poland’s heart is hammering in his chest, and he’s still partially hiding behind Ireland - just in case - but to his relief, his hand stays intact. The dog sniffs him, and then even licks his hand.

“He likes ya, love,” Ireland says, after which he pulls Poland towards the gate. They go through, and the dog is left on the other side of the fence. “Wasn’t so bad, eh?”

“I... think I’ll settle with sheep.”


	3. They're lesbians, Feliks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “Yknow, I thought you’d be a little better at this,” Poland mumbles with a grin. “Half of our house is full of stuff you’ve made by glueing wood to itself, what’s so different about glueing gingerbread to itself?”  
> “That wood doesn’t fall apart so fucking easily,” Ireland says through his teeth, carefully holding the roof of his house. It’s gonna slide down again, he’s sure.

The general rule in their household is - if Poland wants something, that something has an almost 100% chance of happening. That’s just what they as a couple are. Poland is irresistible, so when he wants to convince Ireland to something, all he needs to do is bat his eyelashes and smile. Well, most the time he doesn’t even need to - Ireland will say yes to basically anything.

He wanted to make a gingerbread house, he decided one day. It’s going to be a lot of fun, and they get to eat all of it afterwards, and for some reason he wants Ireland to do it with him. Ireland saw no harm in that - he might be clueless about baking, but from what he knows, making a gingerbread house involves just putting ready pieces together. So he decided why not.

Fast forward two weeks and he’s in his kitchen, with half his hoodie covered in icing sugar - some even got in his hair, somehow - and the roof of his gingerbread house keeps sliding off for some damn reason. There’s sweets _everywhere_ and his house looks like a mess. To be honest, he stopped caring about ten minutes into it. He’s just putting things wherever, and if they stick, they’re good.

Not surprisingly, Poland’s gingerbread house is looking like a fairy tale masterpiece. He has a little road, neatly planned decorations, and even cotton candy coming from the chimney. Next to the door stands a little gingerbread figure - leftover from when they baked cookies. Ireland has one too, but for now he’d been keeping it on the side, just so the house doesn’t collapse on its head.

“Y'know, I thought you’d be a little better at this,” Poland mumbles with a grin. “Half of our house is full of stuff you’ve made by glueing wood to itself, what’s so different about glueing gingerbread to itself?”

“That wood doesn’t fall apart so fucking easily,” Ireland says through his teeth, carefully holding the roof of his house. It’s gonna slide down again, he’s sure. “The glue is more firm, and the wood itself isn’t a cookie, it doesn’t break when you push on it.”

He lets go, slowly, and then waits. Five seconds and it’s good. Another five - it’s still on.

“Well would you-” and there it goes. “I hate this.”

Poland giggles in response.

“Come on, your gingerbread girl needs a house, you can’t just leave her homeless like that!”

Ireland looks over at Poland’s house. He takes his gingerbread cookie, and gently puts it right next to the other one.

“You can’t just move her in together with _my_ gingerbread girl.”

“They’re lesbians, Feliks. It’s cruel to keep them apart when they can be happy living with each other.”

Poland sighs, but he wipes his hands with a cloth he’s holding, puts it down and walks up to Ireland.

“You have icing sugar _all_ over your face,” he says, leaning in to peck him on the lips.

“Well, thankfully, it just so happens I know someone who’s very fond of sugar,” is Ireland’s reply. He pulls Poland close to him, and the gingerbread houses are long forgotten.

They’ll just eat the broken one later.


	4. Rain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> At the age of 23 - shortly after his birthday - Feliks finally manages tell Seán.  
> It’s not a pretty conversation. He stutters, and panic, and cries, and he’s so, so scared. It’s over, he thinks.

Feliks is 19 when he and Seán first meet.

It’s a college party; Feliks is hiding in the corner of the room while Seán walks up to chat him up. They talk for some time, Seán gets Feliks a drink, and they end up leaving together no longer than an hour after that. They drive to Feliks’s place - it’s closer, apparently - and surprisingly, the drive isn’t awkward silence, but talking and joking and laughing. It feels comfortable. They end the night together, of course.

When Feliks wakes up, Seán is still there, to his surprise. It’s pleasant to rest next to someone, without the rush of having to leave first thing in the morning. And he doesn’t want Seán to leave, strangely.

And Seán doesn’t.

 

He’s still 19 when they make it official. It’s a few months after their first night together - after at least a dozen coffee dates, study sessions and late night walks. Feliks feels absolutely mesmerized; Seán is nothing short of perfect.

Feliks doesn’t tell him yet. He doesn’t want to ruin it.

 

He’s 21 when they move in together.

It’s a long time coming; Seán has been sick of living with his brothers, and Feliks’s apartment was getting too cramped, so they decide renting something together is a good idea. Feliks spends days on the design. They buy way too many unnecessary things, argue over the placement of the furniture, and end up not unpacking most their stuff for weeks to come.

It feels like home, though.

 

At the age of 23 - shortly after his birthday - Feliks finally manages tell Seán.

It’s not a pretty conversation. He stutters, and panic, and cries, and he’s so, so scared. It’s over, he thinks. Seán is not going to want to be with him. That’s all there is to it. It’s been an amazing few years, and he loves Seán with all his heart, but well… it’s his fault for keeping to himself for way too long.

Seán doesn’t leave him, though. He says he understands why Feliks has never said anything. He says he loves Feliks no matter anything. He says they’ll get through it.

They talk til the sun starts rising.

 

Still at 23, his health worsens for the first time.

It’s nothing drastic - he feels weak for a few days, passes out once, and ends up in hospital for a week. He’s fine.

Seán doesn’t think so. He starts discussing treatment, and alternative medicine, and a therapy centre in Asia; Feliks doesn’t want to hear it. He’s fine. He’s not about to spend the rest of his life stuck in a hospital bed before the inevitable happens.

They argue about it a lot. Don’t speak for a few days.

Seán cries next to him for the first time.

 

They get married when he’s 25.

It’s a winter wedding. The venue is beautiful, decorated with blue and white, there’s snow outside, and it couldn’t be more perfect. They both cry.

They spend their honeymoon in Killarney. It looks wonderful; Feliks picks up a pencil for the first time in months. Although they don’t go outside too much - cold air doesn’t work well with Feliks’s already struggling lungs - they have an amazing time. It’s just the two of them. The buzz of the outside world is left forgotten when Feliks lies in Seán’s arms.

He feels like it’s going to be okay.

 

Feliks is 27 when he gets seriously ill for the first time.

It hasn’t been this bad ever since he was a teen; he can’t breathe most the time, the world around him keeps on spinning, and he doesn’t register when he ends up in a hospital bed. Seán is next to him at all times.

His friends come and go, so does his family; Seán, he barely ever leaves. Feliks asks him to take a break, and Seán never listens. He’s always there, with his sunshine smile yet tired eyes, and he keeps holding Feliks’s hand. He tells him he’ll finally try and fix the hallway lamp when they get back home.

Feliks pretends he doesn’t hear him cry.

 

That repeats. When he’s still 27. Then 29, three times. He refuses treatment. He takes some meds, but he never agrees on anything else. Seán tries to change his mind each and every time. Feliks always says no.

Despite that, his 30th birthday comes, and he feels okay. They go out with their friends; everyone keeps looking at him strangely, but Feliks is used to it by this point. He has fun that night. When he falls asleep, he thinks that life has been okay. He doesn’t know how long he has left. Days, months, or years.

Dozing off in Seán’s arms, he feels everything turned out good for him.

 

He’s 32 years old when he’s hospitalised yet again.

And his 33rd birthday never comes.

 

Seán’s friends have taken care of everything. He himself couldn’t. Everything felt too strange for him to manage to do it.

Everyone is awfully nice to him, and he hates it. His brothers come to town, and they all look at him as if he’s about to break. No one cracks one joke; it’s only sad smiles, and empty silence.

Looking at himself in the mirror, dressed in a suit, Seán hates what he sees. There’s still a wedding ring on his hand. He promises himself to never take it off.  He wishes nothing more but not to leave the room. He’s not ready.

He doesn’t want to say goodbye.

 

Yet, at the age of 34, Seán has to stand over Feliks’s casket.

It’s raining.


	5. Cross my heart (and hope to see you again)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Poland breathes in, staring off into the distance. “I miss you.”  
> He hears Ireland sigh softly. “I miss you too, love.”  
> “It’s been so long since I saw you, I feel like I’m going insane.”

Poland is busy with mindlessly singing papers - he isn’t allowed not to sign them, anyways, so he doesn’t even bother reading them anymore - when the violent ringing of the phone downstairs can be heard throughout the house. He finishes singing his name on an education document, something about student protests, puts his pen down and runs downstairs to the hallway. He picks up the handset and falls into the armchair next to the table.

“Hey,” he hears. A smile grows on his face; it’s been a while since he and Ireland talked.

“Hi,” Poland says back, leaning back and swinging his legs over the armrest. “What are you up to?”

“Other than talking to you? Not much. My brother is in town, so we might go out later.”

“Which brother?”

“Which do you think, honestly?”

“Ah, so it’s Scotland,” Poland nods to himself. Seeing Ireland’s ever worsening relationship with England, and the fact Wales had apparently been dying to get away from his brothers, Scotland is the only reasonable choice. And they’ve always been pretty close, despite the personality clashes. Which Poland can very much relate to; it seems both his siblings are as different from him as it’s humanly possible.  “Tell him I said hi, it’s been years since I had the chance to talk to him.”

“I will. And what have you been up to?”

“Oh let me tell you what - Russia visited. I had to listen to his bullshit for a whole week, I thought I was gonna go mad, or kill someone."

“I hope you didn’t get in trouble, though.”

“I kept to hating him silently, yeah. Liet was part of his troop though, so we got to talk.”

“Ah… how was that?”

“Good. I mean… awkward, but it was nice talking to him again. I feel it might be a while until we can speak without it feeling weird, though.” Poland breathes in, staring off into the distance. “I miss you.”

He hears Ireland sigh softly. “I miss you too, love.”

“It’s been so long since I saw you, I feel like I’m going insane.”

“I could try to talk to my boss-”

“It won’t work,” Poland mumbles. He’s playing with the cable of the phone with his free hand. An anxiety thing, he figures. “They won’t let you through the Curtain. They don’t let anybody through. Especially not when it’s a personal matter.”

“Feliks-”

“I know we can’t do anything about it but… I hate it.” he feels his eyes watering, and tries blinking to keep the tears away. “I want to see you. I hate that I’m stuck here dependent on what the higher ups will say, I hate Russia, and I hate the fucking Curtain.” and there, he’s crying. _Again._ Poland’s lost count of how many times exactly he’s cried lately.

“I wish there was something we could do… you don’t even know how much I miss you. Please, Feliks, don't cry-”

Poland can’t help it now, he’s sobbing into the phone, his body shaking, having curled into a ball on the chair.

“It can’t last forever,” Ireland keeps talking. “Eventually something will happen, the Berlin wall will fall, or will the Soviet Union, something must happen eventually, and then we can be together again. I won’t ever let you be away from me again. We can stay at my place, you’d like all the green.”

“When, though?” he asks weakly. “It’s been thirty years already. How much more do we have to wait? How long til this goddamn nightmare is over? You don’t know how awful it is here, and it will get worse, my people have had enough and so have I. I can’t keep this up anymore.”

“Don’t… say that, please. I know it’s bad, okay? I know. You’ve pulled through so much already, though. You’ll be okay. I can’t say when, but we will be together again, love. Screw what everybody thinks, to hell with our bosses or the church, we won’t be separated again like this. I don’t care that everyone says it’s wrong, I love you and nothing will change that. We just have to wait this out.”

Poland sniffs, and wipes his eyes with the back of his hand.

“Promise?”

“Cross my heart.”


	6. Hear the wind blow, love

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “How come babies can just cry like that?” Feliks says, his head rested against the wall. “His throat should be ruined by now, he’s been going at it for like thirty minutes.”
> 
> “Well then maybe he’s screaming cause it hurts,” Seán sighs restlessly. "Or he’s a drama queen like you and just wants attention.”

It’s the middle of the night; time when all is quiet, calm, and everyone is sound asleep. 

Except it’s not at all quiet, nor calm, and no one is sleeping; though Feliks would love to go to bed and sleep til mid afternoon. Unfortunately, he isn’t gonna get a chance to do that for at least next ten to twelve years; one of many joys of being a parent.

And as much as he loves it, he also hates it, especially seeing how tired he is right now. It must be about three at night, and there he and Seán are, in the nursery, taking turns in trying to rock their baby to sleep. Feliks is sat on the windowsill seat, staring at Seán pacing around the room and sweet talking every now and again; it’d almost be calming if not for the crying ringing in Feliks’s ears.

“How come babies can just cry like that?” Feliks says, his head rested against the wall. “His throat should be ruined by now, he’s been going at it for like thirty minutes.”

“Well then maybe he’s screaming cause it hurts,” Seán sighs restlessly. He walks over to Feliks and sits next to him.  “Or he’s a drama queen like you and just wants attention.”

“That’s only reasonable.” Feliks scoots himself over to him, and puts his head on Seán’s shoulder, gesturing him to pass the crying mess that is their baby. “Hey there, Charlie, sweetie,” he coos gently. “What’s wrong? Aren’t you tired?” 

“Maybe he got scared by something,” Seán suggests, putting one of his hands behind Feliks, and pushing the tiny, ginger locks out of Charlie’s forehead with the other. He tries to tickle his stomach, but the crying gets worse so he quickly retreats his hand. “Why won’t you go to sleep,  _ a chroí, _ huh?”

“You fed him, right?”

“Two hours ago, yeah, he shouldn’t be hungry yet.”

Feliks sighs, and closes his eyes. “Do you know any lullabies?”

“What?”

“I dunno, maybe singing to him will help.” Seán shifts next to him.

“I kinda know one. Only a few lines, tho-”

“I’ll take anything by this point. Who knows, maybe it’ll miraculously work.”

No one speaks for the next few seconds - Feliks is only gently shushing and cooing at Charlie, hoping it might do something - and then Seán starts gently singing. 

_ “Hear the wind blow love, hear the wind blow, _

_ Lean your head over and hear the wind blow, _

_ Hear the wind blow love, hear the wind blow, _

_ Hang your head over and hear the wind blow,” _

Surprisingly enough, Charlie actually goes quiet. Feliks keeps gently rocking him, but he’s less focused on that and more on Seán - his voice is calm, low, but sweet and melodic; Feliks can never get enough of it, no matter how many times he hears it.

_ “Oh, winds of the night, may your fury be crossed, _

_ May no one who's dear to our island be lost, _

_ Blow the winds gently, calm be the foam, _

_ Shine the light brightly and guide them back home.” _

Feliks says nothing when it’s over, instead of sitting still and looking on the floor with no focus. 

“You had a point. It worked,” Seán says, so quiet Feliks barely hears him. He looks over at Charlie, who is now quiet in his arms, visibly struggling not to close his eyes. Seán gently gives him his pacifier, which Charlie accepts with a small sound, and then snuggles into Feliks.

“Is that an Irish song?” Feliks asks, gently ghosting his finger over Charlie’s cheek. 

“Yeah, it’s a nursery rhyme my mom would sing to me and Allie when we were little. I don’t remember all of it, though.”

“It’s cute. And well, he liked it, I think, that’s what’s important.” Feliks leans back against Seán, and nuzzles his head to his shoulder. “He’s so pretty,” he sighs.

“Yeah, he has that after you.” Feliks smiles, rolling his eyes. 

“Will you sing me to sleep too?”

Seán kisses his head with a chuckle. 

“If you ask nicely, perhaps.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [link to the full lullaby!](https://www.mamalisa.com/?t=es&p=3499)


End file.
